Bittersweet Sixteen
by Toomuch2soon
Summary: A fic of friendship and enemies. Guys will be thrown around like last years Marc Jacobs, school studies thrown aside, and I, Hyuuga Hinata will stand by and watch as my two bst friends try to kill eachother.
1. Chapter 1

**Full Summary:**

**Ino Yamanaka and Haruno Sakura are anything but average. I'm Hyuuga Hinata-thrift store junkie and scholarship student to Springside, our posh all-girls high school in Manhattan (no matter how much I stretched it, Konoha could not be a huge city like NY...). Needless to say, I'm not like Sakura and Ino-gorgeous, popular, and filthy rich- but that doesn't stop us from being BFF's. Sophomore year was going great, until they started turning in to the all-Sweet Sixteen, all-the-time channel. Now tempers are flaring, Gucci bags are flying, and guys are being tossed around in vicious tug-of-war battles. All this just to see whose Sweet Sixteen reigns the best and grandest??**

**Yeah, so I guess I got the idea from a book called Bittersweet Sixteen.**

**i do not own naruto**

**I also don't own Bittersweet Sixteen.**

* * *

There's one thing you need to know. In the world of private schools, penthouses on Park Avenue, chauffer-driven Bentley's, private jets to Europe at the drop of a hat, and Dior shopping sprees one thing tops all as the pinnacle of a thenth-grade girl's social calendar in New York: the mega and almighty Sweet Sixteen extravaganza.

The beginning of the new year has started off with enough stress already. And no, it's not because of the backbreaking heavy textbooks already stuffed into out over-sized Marc Jacobs bags for the nightly cram. It was because the Sweet Sixteen competition was about to begin, and it was steep. I mean, WAY more cutthroat than the honor society plaque.

Let me fill you in. My name is Hyuuga Hinata and I live in New York City. My school is not your average football and cheerleader, pep rally, messy cafeteria all-American kind of school. No varsity letter, no brightly-colored pom-poms, no prom kind and queen...no prom. See, my school, Springside Academy, is all _girls. _Oh, but it gets better! Uniform: gray and blue pleated skirts and white button down shirt. But what does it matter? It's not like we're trying to flirt with anyone next to our lockers. Wait, we don't have lockers! Instead, we have carpeted lounges with individual closets opening into couch-filled rooms.

Because Springside is the No. 1 private all-girls academy in New York, a bastion of education and refinement that has been enlightening the city's finest young ladies for over two hundred years. Located on the upper super-posh Upper East Side, it boasts a student directory where most of the last names are the same as _Fortune_ 500 companies.

But not moi- I don't recall seeing Hyuuga on any publicly traded stocks, or anything else for that matter. Especially in the glossy party pictures of _Vogue_.

But luckily I don't have to deal with the over-the-top party planning for a huge Sweet Sixteen. Why would my parents be willing to drop millions of a party that will last a few hours when they can barely afford to pay for the 20,00 a year cost for my school? The most I was getting was a dinner out with friends and the 'rents. But that was fine with me. I've never been into the whole huge party thing. I love parties, don't get me wrong, but I don't feel the need to hand out Tiffany diamond encrusted bracelets as party favors or anything. All I was doing was making sure to pass all classes with A's.

The morning crunch of girls packed into the lounge, snapping D&G cell phones shut, hanging up Prada over coats, and unpacking their Gucci book bags into their closets. I said hi and greeted some people I vaguely knew, asking about their summers and getting bored looking face about whirlwind adventures to skiing in the Alps, summer classes at Le Rosée in Switzerland, worked with "youths" in the inner-city Chicago by day, balloon rides through Scandinavia, cruises through the Bahamas, ect. Sure beats my being a camp councilor in Maine. But I was still totally stoked to see my best friend, Ino.

Yamanaka Ino is pretty much perfect. But not annoyingly perfect, just flawless with out even having to try. Platinum blond and blue-eyed with Waspy facial architecture that Michelangelo would have used as a blueprint for his next sculpture. She was christened in Baby Dior, summered in Southampton, and sampled her first potato galette with caviar at the age of five. She sounds over the top, but it's all she's ever known. If she wasn't so down to earth, I wouldn't still be her friend. We've been best friends since we were zero. We do everything together. Where ever Ino is, I am and vice versa.

But we are different. I get stressed out while Ino goes with the flow of life, waving her perfectly manicured nails at any problem that comes her way (which, frankly, doesn't happen often). That's because when you pretty much own the school, no one tries to dethrone you. The whole Sweet Sixteen thing? Everyone knows Ino's is going to be the best. She's not cocky about it; she just knows. Like guys. The WORSHIP her. I mean, clay in her perfect hands. They circle around her like sharks on the prowl for her size-four chum.

Ino and I see each other every day, staying up into the hours of the night talking on the phone. Still, we always come to school and gather with out posse (our two other best friends, Tenten and Temari) to catch up on any other gossip that has gone down in the hours since we last met. So we met in the lounge after staking out our tenth-grade quarters and locating our new digs.

"He called me last night."

I turned around from my closet at Ino's elated morning report and got an excited shiver as if it were a hot guy calling _me_. I mean, I've had minor boyfriends and stuff, but with my not-so-Barbie looks I am hardly boy drool material. I'd been waiting to hear if she aced her latest game of flirt-o-rama. He had called!

"He is so effing_ hot_, Hinata! I mean, like, _en fuego_. He's thinking of becoming a male model. He's been approached by, like, Abercrombie's scouts."

Ino was on a high of guys. Spending her summer at the beach in Barbados, tennis lessons, and heavy outings with the Greystone Country Club lifeguard. Before she could launch into full detail, Tenten and Temari swooped in and kissed each of us on both cheeks, the usual Euro-style greeting all the girls give to each other in the morning.

"Hey girls," Temari said running off. "I've gotta go and get a new chick upstairs to tour her around. See ya later!" Temari was the girl who was extracurricularing herself into college. Any volunteer job she could get he french manicured hands on, she grabbed.

"So what's this I hear about you and your lifeguard lover becoming a model?" Tenten asked, rolling her beautiful brown eyes surrounded by gold Yves Saint Laurent eye shadow.

"So?" asked Ino flipping her hair behind her shoulder. "I mean, hellooo! He's stunning!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Tenten walked off and plopped her Chanel quilted tote and cashmere sweater-coat in her closet. Ino looked at me with a perfectly plucked raised eyebrow.

"Hinata, what do you think?"

"Ino, you're smart," I started. "And I tend to think of male models as vapid himbo typed who are really vain. I know he's older and toned and stuff, but really, do really want to date a guy who counts calories more than you?"

"Oh my god! You are so right," she said twisting her signet ring. "I would so freak out if he ran to the bathroom to puke his lunch out." she twisted her hair around her finger, signifying she was thinking hard. "Besides, I love our gang of guys at Bradely. Naruto totally has a thing for me, I can sense it. Maybe I should go for him this year..." she trailed off in though.

"Naruto? Uzumaki Naruto?" I wondered surprised. I didn't know Ino was into him. I didn't know she had really even noticed him. I mean, sure he was the hottest of the Bradely gang, but last year we had been hanging more with the St. Peter's guys and had only decided to clean house and bring the Bradely boys back. I had known Naruto for quite a while. He and I shared a few small talks. I was surprised to feel a swoop in my stomach as she told me this. I didn't know he was on Ino's radar. But, of course, if he was, Ino would get him. "I didn't know you...liked him."

"Hm? Oh, we hung out in Southampton. He's had a totally growth spurt over the summer and makes Orlando Bloom look like a twice baked potato. I am so getting Naruto this year. He's much better than a male model anyways. Right?"

"Totally. Smart is better." I said. "Remember male models are like Cadburry Cream Eggs: The outside shell is really sweet, but inside there is nothing but goo." Oh well, another hottie taken by Ino. I didn't know Ino liked Naruto, but...

Ino was laughing so hard her face was red. "God, Hinata. I missed your little bits of wisdom."

"Always happy to help!" I smiled.

She sighed, "It's going to be a good year, I can feel it in my bones. It's so gona rock." and with that she flounced over to our couch and plopped her small butt down.


	2. bitch much?

**I do not own naruto**

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A sudden burst of laughter erupted from the door way. You know, one of those laughs that everyons stops talking at exactly that moment? Yeah.

Every perfectly groomed head whipped around.

"You're so funny, Temari!" the laugher boomed before realizing that every head was turned toward her, the room pin-drop silent. "Geez, it's like a mortuary in here. Doesn't anyone talk?"

Temari laughed one of her perfect-student laughs. "It's still early. We haven't had our lattes yet."

"Hopefully that all." the new girl sniffed.

"Here, I'll show you to your closet," Temari offered, turning around a corner.

I turned to Ino and noticed her digesting every small detail about the new girl. I could almost see the little thunder storm going on inside her, We're gona have a problem...She was the antithesis of Ino. Her hair, although pink, was kind of messy, but it a sporty chic way. She had very white teeth, and flashed a million-dolor smile when she laughed -which was every ten seconds. She had already boldly changed her standard uniform. Tailoring the skirt well above the knees, pulling her white oxford shirt tightly across her lardge chest, while wearing tons of those Lance Armstrong cancer bracelets on her wrist. (Hey! Make a fashion statement AND fight cancer!) Her shoes were the latest Louis Vuittons that had been photographed on the celebrities everywhere, and she had on huge diamond stud earing that looked exactly like the ones J. Lo wore to the Golden Globes. Even though she had a slightly wide forhead, and wasn't the thinnest person I've ever seen, she was beautiful. Yup, she d efinetly had that dirty-girl look going on for her,which guys were just going to lap up. And you could tell by the way she let her presence be known in a room, she loved being the center of attention. Bring on the red flags right now.

"Who the hell is _that_?" Ino sneered, her voice oozing with disgust. She pointed a finger over in the new girls dirrection.

"Oh, you don't know her?" asked Tenten casually. "I rode up with her in the 'vator. Cute, right?" she took out a hair tie and fixed one of her two buns on top of her perfect head.

"Nope, never seen her in my life," Ino commented.

"Me neither," I said.

"Oh my God, she's, like, really awesome. She's from L.A. It's so cool, because we haven't had a new girl in years," Tenten spoke as if it were a breakthrough in life.

"What's her name?" I asked.

"Haruno Sakura. Her dad is like, the biggest producer of every hot movie right now. She knows soooooo many celebs." Tenten twirled her Tiffany's necklace around her pointer finger. "She has Vanessa Hudgens cell number, and Orlando's pager."

Ino rolled her eyes in distaste. "She told you that? So trying too hard."

"Be nice, Ino. Anuway, I got to go. Talk to you guys later!" she stood up and left, her Dunes gold heels hitting the wood floor quietly.

Ino scoffed as Sakura was showing a picture of her manse in Bevery Hills. Tack-y.

Over the course of the morning, Ino and Sakura were like to dogs sniffing each other out, watching every moove- the two most goregous girls each trying to see where the social chips would fall. Ino's pretty territorial and doesn't take crap from anyone. I could soon tell Sakura was the same way. One problem here: two queen bees, one hive. But in our class of only forty-three girls, it was inevitable that at some point the titans had to crash.

It didn't take Sakura long to figure out that Ino was queen to the throne of social status.

I caught Sakura giving Ino's Cartier tank top and Tiffany studs a once over, and saw the flash in her eye. Of course, Ino was the fashion leader of the school.

Ino raised her eyebrows slightly aas Sakura giggled with Mr. Everwood, out hottie English teacher. everyone knew he was so off limits, unless you wanted your heart broken in half.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could Sakura's slender finger slide gracfully down the front page of her notebook everytime she opened it. Under her finger would be gleaming smiles of Jessica Simpson, Shia LaBeouf, ect. which was a good way to attract attention, and bug the hell out of Ino. Each time she pulled her little ritual, Ino would thrust a not into my lap (_Ugh, could she be anymore of a star worshiper? gag)_. I would simply nod and look away.

Just as Mrs. Mitarashi took a pause from her introductory rant on Dostoyevsky, Sakura's hand shot up.

"Yes, Miss Haruno?"

"Hi. Since I'm new here, I'm not sure how it all goes down here, but my father, Haruno Masahiko, is like, _dear_ friends with Julie Christie, and she ws in _Doctor Zhivago_, so if you, like, want her to come in to class and discuss that book, 'cause I know it was written by Dostoyevsky, I can totaly arrange it."

Mrs. Mitarahi looked surprised. "That's very kind, Sakura. But actually, _Doctor Zhivago_ is by Boris Pasternak and is twentieth centtury Russian literature, which we will not be studdying until next year."

I would have been so embarassed, but not Sakura. She smiply shrugged her shoulders and offered a " Ph, well then, let's plan for next year, Maybe we all go to Russian Samovar for lunch with her-Baryshinikov owns it and he's like, another good friend of my dad's/"

I couldn't help but look at Ino, who's eyes were wide.

When we were walking to lucnh, she leaned over to be and whispered "One word: tacky.!

"Shh...She'll totally hear you."

"Does it matter? She is totaly yucksville. Could she name-drop any more? I eamn, I've never actually talked to her personally and I know that Mr. Chow is 'like her kitchen,' that they moved here because her dad was making some big movie Marty- not even Martin, but Marty- Scorsese, and that the guy who played the dad on _7th Heaven _is her godfather. Barf."

"Mmhhm. She's really something." I wasn't sure what to make of Sakura, actually. She both repelled and compelled me. On the one hand she was a brazen name-dropper, but on the other she seemed unbashed about it, and that was kinda refreshing. It could get irritating when someone at Springside tried to brag in subtle whispers that they had dined with Henry Kissinger the night before, but then had to give all these disclaimers like they don't care about famous people, blah, blah, blah. Yeah right.

The jury was still out on Miss Haruno. Lunch seemed a good opportunity for further deliberation.


End file.
